


The Cradle Will Fall

by A_N_Whitmore



Series: Storms and Darkness [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Family Secrets, Heavy Angst, M/M, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_N_Whitmore/pseuds/A_N_Whitmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and his father have a rough conversation leading to a secret being revealed after years of being hidden. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Lydia has some news and Stuart has a problem with his current place in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cradle Will Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this story is potentially triggering and I ask you to read it at your own risk. This situation is fictional and in no way does the author wish to cause trauma to anyone who has experienced this issue. Please be aware that this chapter contains rape/non-con elements and talk of institutionalisation. 
> 
> No flames and or derogatory comments will be tolerated, if you do not like it, DON'T READ IT!
> 
> A.N. Whitmore

Dealing with the changes that have come about since Void’s latest appearance have been difficult, Stiles knows he’s been sleep walking and the nightmares have had him screaming for help in the middle of the yard more than once in the past week, since they’ve been to see Dr. Feldman. He hasn’t touched Derek even in passing, fearing a repeat of the debacle with Sviatoslav. Not that he’ll admit the names of the phantoms aloud of course. He is in control of his body, not the ghosts of the pretender spirits that have attempted to invade his consciousness. 

Lydia’s egg test has come back negative yet again and Dr. Rousseau has suggested that they change around her fertility regimen but Derek is tempted to skip the sessions this month and re-evaluate whether they’re even ready to have a family. Not only that but getting ready to attend the conference has been putting even more stress on Derek than he wants to admit. Stiles hasn’t told Derek, but he’s pretty sure that he can smell the lingering stench of his smoking habit, which he’s recently renewed. Sneaking one last pull of the cheap menthol, Stiles hastily put out the butt and took a pull from the latest of Chris’s microbrews, frowning at the lack of flavour. He’d forgotten how bad cigarettes masked subtle tastes.

“That bad huh kid?” John joined him in the back yard beneath the maple tree, his knees creaking as he folded himself into a sitting position. Stiles breathed in the smell of the autumn rain and sighed, his eyes felt tight and dry from crying after the appointment this morning. He hated himself for feeling like he’s losing everything while Lydia may never have a family. It wasn’t just that, the lack of control made him want to scream. 

“I don’t know Dad, maybe I should look into a short stay programme. Maybe… maybe it will help get me under control.”

“No, not again, we talked about this. You don’t do well in a facility.” John sniffed wiping away the growth from Stiles’ and Scott’s name carving in ‘04.

“Then what should I do? I’ve had to take medical leave until I calm down, they probably won’t let me near patients ever again if this gets out!”

“Look you didn’t do well after…”

“Say it, after mom? I mean come on.”

“It wasn’t just your mother Stiles, it was me and your aunt and everybody else trying to nudge in where they didn’t belong. Alameda wasn’t the way to go and I’m sorry I ever put you there.”

“Dad, you really didn’t have a choice, they would have taken you away from me.”

“I did Stiles, I could have brought you back home after I got cleaned up. If I had just paid attention…”  
“Dad…”

“No. No Stiles you don’t get to make excuses for me anymore. What I didn’t do back then was wrong and it’s part of the reason you’re going through this again.”

Stiles paused, his breath fogging the cold air as he glanced back at his father’s hunched form.

“So… you’re telling me… You’ve seen me do this more than once.”

“Stiles, do you remember… God… Do you remember Uncle Gerasim?”

“Yeah, he always used to sneak up and watch us when we were swimming, you told me and Scott to never be alone with him.”

“Well, remember last week, when he called to tell you he was in the hospital on the Hospice ward?”

“No.”

“You called me, screaming in Russian.”

“No I didn’t, I was at the hospital working.” Stiles laughed wryly.

“Stiles, Melissa had to take you home, she found you in one of the supply closets.”

“So get to the point Dad, what is this all about? Because right now you’re freaking me out.”

“You were so little, I… I didn’t know… until you found the journal. His journal um… his journal had some really sick things and I swear I would have killed him if I was thinking straight when I found out, but by then you were doing so much better after we changed schools and got you on the right med combo.”

“Uncle Gerasim was just eccentric and strange dad.”

“No Stiles… he was a paedophile. And between the summers of 2004-2006 he molested and… raped numerous children. We didn’t know, or at least I didn’t. Considering that most of these kids were too young to recall accurate testimony, the court would throw it out. You were eight in 2004, you were the oldest.”

“You mean to tell me… mom’s brother… Uncle G… Come on Dad, that’s sick, he could barely chase me when I was 8 remember? His first Leukaemia treatments were right after mom died. The man was so sick he could barely eat let alone get it up. You’re lying.”  
Stiles stood and paced about the tree.

“Stiles… I have his journal; you took it in 2009. I tried telling you this, tried to get you to talk. Remember social services took you away for a few weeks? I showed it to the police, I tried bud… but you wouldn’t say anything. No one else would talk; it wasn’t enough to get a judge to look. You forgot everything in that summer after Alameda.”

He halted in front of his father pointing a finger accusingly.

“So you’re saying I blocked out two summers of being raped, and no one noticed, not a thing. No physical trauma, no nightmares? What I’m just supposed to accept that my uncle riddled with Leukaemia somehow got the guts and his dick up to molest little boys and no one called him out as a fucking sleaze?”

The sheriff looked at the ground and tried to breathe evenly before continuing on.

“Whenever we tried to ask you, you would sing ‘My only Sunshine’ and your imaginary friend Luke came out to play, but no one could see Luke. I took you to therapists; so many therapists and they all said it was Juvenile Schizophrenia. Remember? Stiles please… That’s why your aunt and I put you in Alameda.” John looked up as he watched his son run his fingers roughly through his hair.

“So the bastard, I guess, kept raping people while I got thrown in a mental hospital? That’s just fucking great Dad! So what do I do now? Apparently they misdiagnosed me then because I have chunks missing out of my days, I can’t remember when I last showered or what Derek got me last Christmas for fuck’s sake! I’m fucking crazy because my mother was crazy and freaking stopped eating and sleeping and you just drank and sent me over to Scott’s or down to Aunt Carole’s; where apparently a sick asshole decided to get his jollies by showing me how big boys like to play!”

“Stiles!”

“No Dad! That journal is the ravings of an idiot! You can’t believe one word in that damn thing because the asshole’s brain has been eaten by Chemotherapy for the last twenty years in between remissions! I won’t listen to another word of this. I’m going to go get an MRI on Monday after the conference this weekend and you’ll find out that it’s either Schizophrenia or FTLD. If it is… I’ll take the Bite and this whole fucking thing will just be one bad dream.”

“Son…”

“No! Now you listen to me man, quit pushing his fucking buttons!”

Dylan felt jostled amongst the crowd as he broke through the wall of noise. He wasn’t one to defend somebody when it wasn’t really his place but apparently his double’s overbearing co-worker pushed too far.

“Look, forget this scene. Ok? The kid’s overworked; we’ll hit the trouble spots tomorrow. I’ve gotta go. You people piss me off.”

“Dylan right?” John pushed himself up slowly to meet the newcomer.”

“Quit being a dick Linden. Let’s just call it a day.”

John nodded as he watched the personality slide back beneath the surface allowing the slight and innocent form of Stuart through.

“Don’t bring up Uncle G again unless you want to meet Svi for real instead of over the phone, or Void.”

“So you remember?”

“I know enough.”

“But who knows the truth?” The sheriff pushed away from the maple, brushing himself off.

“Maybe nobody… maybe everybody, I’m not allowed to say. So do you want to go get something to eat? I feel like I haven’t had anything since that donut and breakfast on Tuesday and I’m starving.”

“Let me… let me get my wallet and we’ll go get whatever you want.” John’s mouth tasted like ash from the lingering smell of the cigarette and he stifled the urge to lose his stomach from the stress.

“’Kay, meet me out by the jeep and bring my glasses would you? I left the main pair at Derek’s again.”

“Sure, you want to go to Arlene’s?” 

“I can handle a possible heart attack stacker, but don’t tell Lydia or she might crown you. You know we’re working on having your grand kid soon so… she’ll expect you to babysit.”

John forced a normal laugh as he went into the house and closed the back door, struggling not to bury his fist in the wall as he stifled a shout of pent up anger against the dusty curtains.  
Pulling out his cell phone, he dialled Derek and shoved the wallet into his back pocket.

“Hey… he’s fine, calm down. Yes, Derek I told him again. I don’t know how many it’s been now since Thursday. I guess five? No… No, I won’t lie to my son. Not anymore, no more hiding it from him. Just keep taking notes; Morrell said we have to just take it a day at a time.” He paused “Screw what Feldman says, I have a bad feeling about him. Deaton should have never contacted that prick in the first place. He’s made it worse since he chose to bind Stiles’ gifts. Yes, I know they’re back, but that isn’t the point. This was supposed to get better, not worse. Look, Stuart and I are going to grab a burger at Arlene’s, I don’t know how long he’s staying here so you might as well come down.” 

“Yo, Dad are we going? I mean the Stilinski specials only last another half hour.” Stuart pushed into the laundry room with a smile on his face but it quickly faded with Derek’s voice on the line.

“Hey… Is that Derek? Did we hear anything from Lydia’s doctor yet?”

“He wants to talk to you.” The sheriff quickly pushed the offending mobile into his son’s grip as he walked away, “I’ll let you talk in private.”

“Hey, so… What’s the word on our wobbling weeble?”

“Hi baby, the little one is still waiting for his grand debut, it seems the Doc wants to try something different to stimulate production before we make a stab at trying to get lucky.”

“We’re going to try again though right? I mean… I could try…” 

“Stuart… Hun… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to.”

“But Stiles…” Stuart frowned, irritated at his other self.

“Stiles will when he’s ready. Once we find some eggs, we can always keep them until it’s time. Are you coming home tonight?”

“He hates that idea but yeah we could. I miss you, it’s hard to sleep.”

“Have you been taking your meds? Don’t lie, I’ll know,” he heard Derek’s breathing hitch over the line.

“I missed today and yesterday.” 

“Have your dad bring them when you drive back, I’ll have Scott grab the jeep later.”

“No, I’m good to go, they don’t make me drowsy anymore.”

“Look, now that Miss Morrell added the Seroquel, I want you to take it easy.”

“I’m not a kid Derek, and besides… I…I have more control. I don’t bounce out at the drop of a hat now.”

“I know that. Still, we need to keep an eye…”

“No, I’m driving home tonight,” Stuart drummed his fingers impatiently on the dryer.

“All right. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Aren’t you coming to the diner?”

“Lydia grabbed a Redbox flick for tonight, ‘Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood’.”

“I guess I’ll be bringing home an order then,” Stuart struggled to keep the quaver out of his voice.

“Hey, are you mad?”

“No… Just… frustrated. I was hoping to hear a yes.”

“So were we baby, so were we,” Derek sighs and Stuart can imagine Lydia running her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll be back by around 8 ok? I’ll even bring chocolate cake, the mousse one Lydia loves.”

“Ok, remember your Celexa dose at 7:30. I love you.”

Stuart hung up and walked out to the jeep with his keys in hand after checking the side door was locked and climbed in to find that his father was listening to the Mets game.

“Who’s winning? Mets or Marlins?”

“Mets so far, bottom of the third, two bases loaded with Wheeler on first and Wright on third. Two outs, one ball, two strikes with Matsuzaka up at bat. Abreu is in the pen.”

“Score?”

“Three- two, Mets.” John handed him his spare glasses as he started the jeep.

“Nice… So I have to bring the Pack Doggie Bag, Arlene and Ruth Anne are gonna kill me.”

“I’d hate to be you if you don’t show up with the goods though, better to have the Sisters kill you than Scott or Lydia.”

“What about Erica? She always likes Marino’s churro sticks. Plus… she’s pregnant too now… so.”

“Look… Everything will happen when it’s time and for tonight… I don’t think Erica and Boyd are going to be visiting. Lydia isn’t going to want to talk about today or babies for a while.”

“You’re right… maybe we should forget the others and just focus on Lydia.”

“Good idea, now let’s get going before it gets too late.”

Later after Stuart dropped John off, he drove back to the Preserve and parked in the drive, grabbing the cake and the reuben for Derek from the back seat. He noticed the downstairs was dimmed but that the living room flickered with his constellation globe and soft music could be heard through the windows. Opening the door was a tight spot but he managed to balance the cake as he held the sandwich bag in his teeth. He could smell his (or rather Stiles’) white sage smudge smouldering in the dim light and set the food down on the side table. 

“Hey, is everything good or should I go back out for a bit?”

“We’re in the living room,” Lydia called out. Walking though to the living room, he found them resting together on the couch and paused in the doorway.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“Just come over here Stuart.”

“I grabbed you a chocolate cake, the one with strawberries and I got Der a reuben.”  
Lydia pulled him down to the floor, removing his beanie and glasses into Derek’s waiting hands and proceeded to fluff his hair into a mess.

“Hey! I just fixed it and I can’t see you without my glasses.”

Derek pressed his warm hand against Stuart’s cheek and sighed, “You don’t need to see us to relax, just listen. Lydia, do you want to tell him the plan or should I?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she laughed adjusting herself against Derek’s chest.

“Shouldn’t Stiles be the one to listen if it’s important?”

“We’ll tell him if he can’t hear us now, “ Derek took a moment and continued, “ Lydia’s doctor is planning on doing in vitro activation in the next round.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’re going to mess with one of my ovaries so it produces an egg.”

“So you could get pregnant easier? I mean could it work?” Stuart’s mind went over the possible implications of this news. He… No, not him, Stiles would be a father soon. He was just a figment, but he didn’t feel like a figment, he felt like he was alive. Yet, from everything he’d read on Dissociative Identity Disorder, he wasn’t the true personality. He was just part of a record keeping system.

“What’s wrong? Stu, why are you crying?”

“Because I’m not really real… I’m not… I’m not going to be here once everything gets fixed. This kid will want their father, not some mirror fragment. I’ll never get to see them grow because Stiles will want that and I’ll be put back in the closet.”

“You are real Stuart, you belong with us just as much as Stiles does.”

“If that were true, then why don’t you ask me to stay?”

“Stuart…”

“No… why is it that he gets to live? Don’t I have a right to be here? Aren’t I worth something? Don’t I have a right to know what day it is or to go to a concert? Can’t I just be me without having to fight for space?”

“It isn’t like that… it’s complicated baby.”

“No it isn’t, it really isn't Derek.” Stuart nearly choked on his tears as he got up from the floor.

“I have a right to exist.”


End file.
